


And Your Arms Wrapped Around Me

by azul_ora



Series: Things You Said [4]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Angst, Based on a Tumblr Post, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Steve Rogers, World War II, a lot of the other avengers show up once or twice, tbh Bruce's role in this fic is fairly minor bc a lot of it is set pre-wwii
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-15 07:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13026054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azul_ora/pseuds/azul_ora
Summary: “It scares me how much you mean to me, sometimes.”





	And Your Arms Wrapped Around Me

**Author's Note:**

> **PLEASE READ**  
>  Warnings for PTSD, anxiety, non-graphic description of a mild bullet wound, mentions of animal abuse, mentions of both consensual and non-consensual body modification/surgery, reference to torture and brainwashing, nightmares, low self-esteem and references to homophobia and Fox News. If any of this triggers or squicks you, please consider before reading.

**things you said at 1 am**

“I don’t know if I will ever get better. But I want to.”

It’s the middle of the night, and he’s standing at the window, hands resting lightly against the glass, looking at the city lights. Five fingers of metal and five fingers of skin against a sheet of safety.

“You won’t be the same as you were before. But you’ll be better than you are now.”

Bucky gives Steve a small, soft, smile, and Steve feels his heart flutter the way it did the first time he ever set eyes on Bucky, back when he was hip-high and underfoot and ‘Steve’ was a dream he didn’t dare to have.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight.”

“That’s okay, Buck. Neither do I.”

After a few minutes, Steve asks Jarvis whether Bruce is awake. Jarvis replies that xe is, and would Steve like xem to come up?

He answers yes, and within a few minutes, Bruce is gently stepping out of the elevator. Steve watches in relief as some of the tensions goes from Bucky’s soldiers: Bruce has always made Bucky feel safe.

Bruce sits down on a sofa and takes out a small paperback. Steve sits quietly at his desk, and sketches the way moonlight falls across Bruce’s face. Bucky stands at the window and watches the world go by.

It’s enough.

* * *

**things you said through your teeth**

“It barely clipped me.”

“Bullshit. Lemme see.”

“I’m _fine_ , Steve.”

“Lemme see, Buck.”

Bucky is silent for a second, then finally holds out his arm. Steve turns it over to see a deep, bloodied score down the outside of the arm, uniform torn away by the bullet’s path. It’s not actually that bad, not by a long shot, but Steve grabs the medkit anyway.

“Steve-”

“I am not letting that get infected. Sit still and let me wrap it.”

Bucky acquiesces, and remains still while Steve carefully smears a smidge of their precious antiseptic along the wound and wraps it in torn-up bedsheets.

When he’s done, he places a gentle kiss into Bucky’s hair. “Used to be you patching me up. Who’d’ve guessed one day it’d be the other way round?”

“Punk,” Bucky mutters, but there’s a smile in his eyes.

* * *

**things you said too quietly**

“I’m a guy.”

“What? I didn’t catch that, Mórr, can you say it again?”

Mórríghan glances down and away and does not answer.

Two weeks later, Bucky finds her in a back alley with a bloody nose and a half-drowned kitten. They’re walking along the street together when Mórríghan says, very quietly, “I’m a guy, Bucky.”

Bucky stops. Turns and stares straight at her. “What?”

“I’m a guy.” The street is empty and Mórríghan says it a little louder, pushing all the conviction she can into the words. “I’m a guy, and I’d like to be called Steve, and be referred to with ‘he’.”

Bucky takes a deep breath. “Ok. Steve. What were you doing in that alley?”

Mórrí- Steve smiles a little, and replies, “The older boys were drowning cats. I wanted to save them.”

Bucky smiles affectionately and ruffles Steve’s rough, short hair. “Just like you, eh, Stevie?”

They walk home together, the kitten tucked into Bucky’s jacket and their hands wound tight together.

* * *

**things you said over the phone**

“Stevie?”

“Yeah, Buck. What’s up?”

“I- uh. There’s picketers outside, and I can’t get back into the tower.”

“Picketers?”

Bucky takes a deep, trembling breath and tries to steady his racing heart. “They’re, uh, anti-Wint-... a-anti-Winter Soldier pe-people.”

“Okay, Bucky,” Steve replies over the phone, in the voice that simultaneously says _it’s all gonna be okay_ and _someone’s gonna get the shit kicked out of them_. “I’mma be right down, sweetheart. You sit tight and I’ll get rid of them.”

Bucky lets out a breath and allows himself a tiny smile. “Thanks, Stevie.”

“That’s what boyfriends are for.”

Within ten minutes, Steve’s cleared away the picketers, and Bucky makes for the Tower as fast as he can. Once they’re in the elevator up to the living floors, Steve gently wraps Bucky in a hug and presses kisses in his hair while he trembles.

“It’ll be okay, sweetheart.” Steve kisses Bucky’s lips, ever so gently, barely a whisper of a touch. “It’ll be okay.”

When they get to the communal floor, there’s no one there but Bruce, who’s curled up on the sofa under a soft blanket, nibbling from a bowl of plain popcorn and watching ‘How To Train Your Dragon’ with the subtitles on and the volume muted. Xe glances up as Bucky and Steve enter, then sets down the bowl and signs, "Watch with me?"

Steve gives Bruce a gentle smile, and lets go of Bucky's hand to reply, "Sure. Non-verbal day?"

"Yeah. I can turn on the volume if you want, I can get my noise-cancelling headphones."

"No, it’s fine," Bucky signs. "Some quiet would be nice right now."

They sit and watch the film, the only noise the slight rustle of the blankets and the quiet sounds of popcorn being eaten.

It’s peaceful in a way Bucky thought he’d lost a long time ago.

* * *

**things you didn’t say at all**

Steve doesn’t ask what they did to him at Azzano.

He sees the scars, of course. He kisses every single one of them, and he notices the way that Bucky’s lost weight but gained muscle, notices the way he can run faster and further than he could before.

He doesn’t ask about any of it, knows he has no right. Bucky confesses to him in quiet moments spread over months what happened after he fell, but he never mentions Azzano.

Steve never asks.

* * *

**things you said under the stars and in the grass**

“I can barely believe that life has been this kind to me.”

They’re in a field. It’s summer, and the stars are out. The team are eating and chatting softly round a crackling campfire, and Bucky and Steve are snuggled into each other, staring up at the darkening sky.

Soon, they will have to return to the city, to the starlight that shines from the ground, but for now, they can forget about the world.

* * *

**things you said while we were driving**

“What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck-”

They’re crashing a jeep through a battlefield and there’s gunfire overhead and Steve doesn’t even care because he’s here with Bucky and there’s some kind of wild adrenaline flowing through him despite his dumb costume and the mud and blood around them, they are going to win this war, dammit.

“Bucky! Calm the fuck down and get us there!”

Bucky lets out a wild whoop and Steve doesn’t know whether it’s exhilaration or fear. “I always said you’d drag me into some crazy shit, Rogers!”

He swerves to avoid a pothole and Steve yells to be heard above the rattle of gunfire. “With you till the end of the line, bud!”

When they get back to camp that evening, Bucky quietly recites the _Birkhat HaGomel_ and Steve kneels and says the Lord’s Prayer. Once they’re both finished, Bucky hears Steve’s confession for the day.

It’s easier than it has any right to be, making their faiths work together. They curl up together in a sleeping bag and Bucky knows with all the certainty he can muster that their differences will never be enough to keep them apart.

“With you till the end of the line,” he murmurs quietly.

Steve replies, equally quietly, “I love you too.”

* * *

**things you said when you were crying**

“Steve?”

There are tears pouring down Bucky’s cheeks and he’s strapped down to a table and Steve’s fought through half of Azzano to get him back but this might be what breaks him.

“Hey, Buck,” and his voice is raw with unshed tears. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“I thought you were tiny, punk. What happened?”

“I’ll explain later, once we’re out of here.”

Bucky lets out a weak, throaty chuckle. “What’s a nice boy like you doing in a dump like this?”

“Rescuing my damsel in distress,” Steve jokes back, and then he’s by Bucky’s side and he doesn’t even bother with bolt cutters, just shoves his shield onto his back and snaps the restraints with his bare hands.

Bucky’s breath hitches and Steve thinks it has very little to do with pain. “Damn, that’s hot.”

And, well, there’s nothing Steve can do but lift him up in a bridal carry, because he seriously doubts Bucky can walk, and kiss him deep and long and slow, savouring the rare privacy.

He knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, that they’re using these jokes to cover the pain but they can’t afford to break now, so he just turns towards the door and walks, one foot in front of another, towards safety, Bucky clutched safely in his arms.

* * *

**things you said when i was crying**

“Steve?”

“Bucky?”

“Yeah, it’s me, I’m here. We’re in the Tower. Shh, shh, it’s okay.”

Steve collapses into Bucky’s arms and tries to slow his racing heart as Bucky (gently, ever so gently) brushes away the tear tracks down his cheeks. The lights come on, and Steve fixes his eyes on Bucky’s face, focusing on the deep brown of his eyes, the mess of his sleep-mussed hair, the soft, warm pink of his cheeks.

“Was I… making noise?”

Bucky nods, slowly. “You were moaning in your sleep. Something about the war.”

Steve takes a deep breath and sits up against the headboard of their bed. Bucky sits up as well, and begins to softly sing a lullabye in Yiddish. Steve reaches for the small rosary that lies on the bedside table, and runs it through his hands till they stop shaking.

At some point in the next few hours, they migrate down to the common floor, to find Bruce still up, the lights low. He’s perched on a barstool, sipping from a cup of green tea, a full pot on the counter. Bucky wordlessly pours himself and Steve a cup each, and they sit in silence until Steve feels his core calm and settle once more.

* * *

**things you said that made me feel like shit**

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

* * *

**things you said when you were drunk**

“ _Ikh… ikh hab dikh lib_.”

“Bucky, you know I don’t speak Yiddish. Also, gimme that, I think you’ve had enough.”

Steve makes a grab for Bucky’s glass of whiskey. Bucky dodges, very inelegantly, and Steve falls out of his barstool and straight onto the floor.

“Ew, it’s sticky!” he yelps, whilst Bucky cackles drunkenly and drinks the rest of his whiskey. Bucky holds out a hand and yanks Steve back up, then hugs him tight and plants a kiss into his hair. “ _Go raibh maith agat_ ,” Steve murmurs, unable to help himself. And then, “ _Ar mhaith leat damhsa liom?_ ”

Bucky chuckles and gives Steve a wide, tipsy smile. “Y’know… y’know I sp’k as much Gaelic as y’do Yiddish, right, St’vie?”

“Mmm.”

After that night (and when Bucky’s sober enough to string a sentence together), Steve begins to teach Bucky bits and pieces of Gaelic, and in return Bucky shares phrases of Yiddish.

The next time Bucky says “ _Ikh hab dikh lib_ ,” a smile dancing in his eyes, Steve knows enough to say it back. And when, a few minutes later, Steve enquires, “ _Ar mhaith leat damhsa liom?_ ” Bucky gets up to dance.

* * *

**things you said when you thought i was asleep**

“It scares me how much you mean to me, sometimes.”

It’s a quiet whisper in the dark, Bucky’s breath soft and slow, and Steve can’t help but curl tighter around him, gently carding his fingers through long, dark hair.

Bucky continues murmuring into the cool silence. “I don’t think I ever woulda made it as far as I have without you. And it worries me, because I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. But I guess I just have to believe that I won’t. Not for a while yet.”

He lets out a soft huff of breath, and mutters a few words of Yiddish, and Steve doesn’t catch them, but suddenly he loves Bucky so much he can’t breathe for the beauty of it.

* * *

**things you said at the kitchen table**

“What was it like? Your serum?”

Steve pauses, sets down the bowl of half-whisked eggs on the countertop, and turns to look at Bucky, who’s sitting at the table nibbling a plate of toast. He’s feigning a face of casual disinterest, but his eyes are sharp in intensity.

Steve slowly turns back, picks up the whisk, and resumes beating the eggs as he speaks. “It was strange. Painful, obviously, while I was in the chamber. There were kind of echoes of pain for a few moments afterwards, and then of course I was running and the adrenaline blocked out whatever pain might’ve been there. It was very bizarre, being able to run properly. Equally strange to finally have a body like that.” He takes a deep breath. “You know I’d wanted to… to be seen as male for so long, and to finally come out, and obviously my downstairs hadn’t changed, but to be big and strong and muscular and everyone cooing over me like I was the perfection of masculinity… it was bizarre. Heady, brilliant, everything I had ever wanted, but weird. Yeah.”

“Hmm.” Bucky returns to munching his toast, a faraway look in his eyes.

“Why d’you ask?”

“Hm? Oh, no reason.”

Steve knows it’s a lie, but lets it lie anyway. If Bucky needs to talk, he will.

* * *

**things you said after you kissed me**

“Do you think that made the point?”

The cheering around them is so loud Steve can barely hear Bucky’s question, half-breath and half-laugh that it is.

They’re on top of a float in NYC pride, Steve in a Cap uniform the colours of the trans flag and Bucky wearing a giant bisexual flag with a Star of David in the centre like a cape.

“Yeah, I think you guys kinda got the point across,” Bruce chuckles, a genderqueer flag draped across xyr own shoulders like a cape. “Here, I got your photo.”

Xe hands Steve xyr phone, and Steve smiles down at the image of the two of them, eyes shut, kissing each other in the sunlight.

“Y’know what, Bruce?”

“Mm?”

“Of all the things about the modern world-”

Steve breaks off as Tony flies past in an Iron Woman suit painted pink, blue and white, a line of bunting streaming out behind her, whooping wildly. Perched on her back seems to be… Daredevil, holding an upside-down genderfluid flag in one hand. Steve chuckles and murmurs under his breath, knowing Daredevil can hear him, “Matty, your flag is the wrong way up.” Somewhere on the street below, Steve knows Clint, Phil and Natasha are dancing (possibly with knives), Jane and Darcy are being cute as fuck, Loki is strutting about the place in an excessively glamourous dress and Thor is running after them, ace flag cape no doubt flowing behind him, and Karen and Peter are chilling together, probably both holding or wearing some iteration of the trans flag. Iron Woman swoops past again and Daredevil yells, “Thanks, Cap!” as they pass, flag now held aloft the correct way up.

He chuckles and turns back to Bruce and Bucky. “Of all the things that are different about the modern world, Pride has got to be the best one.”

When he returns to the tower that evening, Peter’s costume has ended up pink, blue and white, and there’s a lot of webbing splattered across it that wasn’t there to start with. Karen has splashes of glitter across her face and Natasha’s hair is practically glowing with the stuff. Clint seems to have shaved the sides of xyr head and dyed the short hair dark purple. Steve takes one look at the long-haired undercut and decides that it shouldn’t work, but it does. Even the normally austere and serious Phil has cut loose a little, a small pansexual flag painted onto his cheek. Someone has sellotaped Daredevil’s genderfluid flag to the back of their outfit and Tony has flowers braided into her hair. Loki’s dress is covered in flecks of colourful paint and their normally exquisitely braided hair is a mess of flyaways, and their blue skin is flushed darker than usual with excitement. Thor looks like a golden retriever who’s run back and forth through a hedge a half-dozen times, eyes gleaming and hair in fantastic disarray. They spill into the common floor and stretch out on every surface available. Jarvis puts on a film that they watch half-heartedly, trading banter back and forth as it plays in the background.

Steve looks around at his family and smiles.

* * *

**things you said with too many miles between us**

“When will you be back?”

“Well, the battle’s over, but we’re assisting with the immediate cleanup and relief operation, so probably about a week or so.”

Bucky sighs. “Okay. I’ll miss you.”

“If you feel like you’re slipping, remember your process, okay?”

“Do my therapy exercises, go find Bruce, remove the stressor from my environment. I gotcha, Stevie. I ain’t gonna fall apart just ‘cause you’re gone for a week.”

The fondness in Bucky’s voice is clear even over the phone, and Steve smiles as he says, “Love you. I’ll call you soon, alright?”

“Alright, punk. Later.”

* * *

**things you said with no space between us**

“Oh my God, you dumb shit, marry me.”

“What?”

“What?”

Steve pauses, looking directly at Bucky, who’s sitting rigid on the sofa, as though he didn’t even realise the words had come out of his mouth.

A smile slowly spreads across Steve’s face. “Alright, if you mean it.”

“What?”

“Earth to Bucky. You okay?”

“What? Uh… yeah.” Bucky shakes himself, pulls down his ponytail and sits forwards slightly.

Steve sits down next to him and very gently hugs him, and suddenly Bucky buries his face in his neck and starts laughing. “Buck?”

“How over the top d’you think Tony is gonna go when she finds out we’re having a wedding?”

Bucky withdraws, and Steve sees a grin on his face. “Are you… did you…?”

“Yes, I mean it. Steven Grant Rogers, aka Captain America, aka America’s best kept secret idiot, will you marry me?”

“Yes. A thousand times yes!” And Steve pulls him into a hug, tighter than before, and buries his face in Bucky’s neck, and suddenly he’s crying.

Bucky presses a few kisses into Steve’s neck, and then mutters, “I get this is emotional, Rogers, but you’re getting my hair wet.”

Steve chuckles, then takes Bucky’s face in his hands and kisses him, long and slow and sweet, and he thinks he might well be the happiest person in the world.

“So, you gonna come down the aisle in a white dress, Bucky?”

* * *

**things you said that i wish you hadnt**

“I don’t know if I’m worth all this, Steve.”

Steve’s breath catches in his throat.

“I don’t know if I can be redeemed. I did so many terrible things. Do I deserve to be forgiven? Is it possible to forgive what I’ve done?”

Steve clears his throat, words sticking in his mouth, stumbling awkwardly on his tongue but he speaks anyway because Bucky needs to hear. “What the Winter Soldier did was not you. You got that, Bucky? You are not him. You did not do any of the things that he did. You are already redeemed, because you have no sins to be cleared. And in any case, any small sin you might have committed before or after has already been absolved. You have done so much good, Bucky, and you have the potential to do so much more. You are not what was done to you. You are not responsible for the crimes committed by the bastards who used you as their avatar. You are not him. You never were, and I know you never will be. Because, Bucky Barnes, you are good.”

* * *

**things you said when you were scared**

“Stevie, you’re sure this is safe?”

“Completely safe, Bucky. It’s just normal sedation. People go under general anaesthetic every day and they’re fine. It’s nothing like cryo. You’ll be fine.”

“But you’re sure?”

Steve sits down on the edge of the hospital bed, and brushes Bucky’s hair back from his face. His eyes are dark and hollow, his cheeks painfully thin, and Steve knows that under his shirt, every rib is visible. “I’m sure, Buck. I promise you, I’ll be with you the whole time. The arm needs to be removed, Bucky. You know what it’s doing to you, the doctors told you.”

Bucky blinks, slowly, like even that takes too much effort, and when he speaks his voice is scratchy. “Yeah. It takes up too much energy, so if I don’t get rid of it, it’ll starve me to death. I kinda already got the starving bit.” He chuckles weakly, and his eyes flick down to the IV in his right arm.

“It’ll be okay. I promise you. _Gráím thú_.”

“Love you too, you big sap.”

* * *

**things you said when we were the happiest we ever were**

“I thought you were gonna come down the aisle in a white dress, Buck!”

Bucky doesn’t come down the aisle in a white dress: he wears a pair of ripped jeans and a too-big Captain America t-shirt with a Star of David carefully drawn on the back in Sharpie. Steve wears a crucifix, a black crop top and a black ballroom skirt. Steve is a little wistful for the idea of a true Catholic wedding in a church, but he knows that Bucky wouldn’t want that, and he half-abandoned the idea of a ‘real Catholic wedding’ the day he went to war, so he sheds a few tears for the thought, then steels himself and moves on. The wedding is held on the roof, and the pictures are, for the most part, hilarious: there are at least five or six photos of Steve sweeping Bucky off his feet and bridal-carrying him down the aisle amidst cheers from the rest of the Avengers.

They release half a dozen photos to the media two days after the wedding: to Steve’s surprise, the rest of the Avengers are happy to help them pick, and they all spend half a day choosing the eight photos that simultaneously give the biggest middle finger to the gender binary and also emphasise their religious beliefs as much as possible.

Media response is… mixed, to say the least. To absolutely no-one’s surprise, Fox News runs a campaign slandering Steve as ‘unpatriotic’ and says some horribly anti-Semitic shit about Bucky.

They do an interview with Time magazine, which promptly puts them on the front page. The headline reads ‘How Captain America is inspiring the queer community and redefining patriotism’. Underneath it, in smaller print, are the words ‘The national icon talks to us about tying the knot with his boyfriend of over a century, the famous prisoner of war, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, and his decision to publicly advertise the long-kept secret of his queer identity’. The rest of the page is taken up by the best photo they released to the media. It shows Bucky facing slightly away from the camera, black stilettos and Star of David clearly visible, kissing Steve on the top of his head. It’s sweet and classy and everything one could expect from a magazine cover.

Various talk and news shows cover the wedding: Steve’s favourite is when Adam Hills of The Last Leg goes on a rant at the homophobes dissing the two of them. Steve watches it on repeat for about an hour, then tweets him to say thank you, and to ask if the two of them can come on the show. He tweets back within about five minutes to say yes, and the next week, Steve and Bucky fly over to the UK, whilst Tony holds a press conference suing Fox News for slander, libel, hate speech and half a dozen other things. It’s good.

There’s one photo, though, that Steve has framed and hung on their floor. It’s the two of them, standing near the edge of the roof. Steve’s skirt is stretched out gracefully behind him, and he’s standing on tiptoe to kiss Bucky who, with the help of his frankly intimidating pair of stilettos, is a few inches taller than him. Their eyes are shut, and there’s a small smile on Bucky’s face. It’s obvious from the picture that there’s nowhere in the world either of them would rather be.

* * *

**things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear**

“If we get picked as the first pair for Strip the Willow, I might just pretend to pass out.”

“Bucky!”

“Kidding, kidding. Mostly. But seriously, I don’t know how anyway can make it through a ceilidh: this is hard work, these dances. How do Scottish people do it?”

It’s the fiftieth birthday of one of Tony’s Scottish friends and that means a massive ceilidh with a bunch of people who have never been to a ceilidh in their lives and that means a lot of people screwing up a lot of different dances. It’s fun anyway, though, and only one person’s taken a fall yet (when his partners got a little too enthusiastic during Dashing White Sargeant).

They do get picked as the first pair for Strip the Willow and they’re spinning together and the music is fast and neither of them have ever done ceilidh dancing before this evening but what the hell, why not?

Steve spends the best part of an hour once the dancing’s over and people have descended on the food trying to explain to a bunch of people he’s never met that Scottish country dance and Irish dance aren’t the same. To Bucky’s amusement, his long-dormant Irish accent begins to poke its way out halfway through an explanation of the similarities and differences between Irish Gaelic and Scottish Gaelic. After he starts muttering to himself in angry Gaelic, Bucky tugs him away.

“Stevie, we’re supposed to be having a good time tonight, and you’re beginning to turn red. Come have some food and chill out.”

Steve spends the rest of the evening nibbling on fancy… rich-people-nibbles that he thinks must have an actual name but can’t remember, and giggling with Bucky as they rapidly switch between Gaelic and Yiddish. It’s a good evening.

* * *

**things you said when we were on top of the world**

“That is one heck of a view.”

Steve grins at the awe in Bucky’s voice. “Sure is.”

Next to him, Bruce tugs xyr coat around xemself a little tighter: xyr cheeks are pink and xyr nose is red. “Please tell me that once we actually start skiing, we’ll warm up a bit.”

“Uh… yes?” Steve tries to sound confident. “I mean, I’ve never actually been skiing, so I don’t really know, but I have to imagine you do.”

Bucky snorts. “Figures that when Tony finds out none of us have ever been skiing, her first thought is that we need a ski trip to the Alps.”

Steve chuckles, then grabs Bucky’s hand with one of his own and Bruce’s with the other. “Shall we get going, then?”

The sky is blue, the ground is white, the air is crisp, and they begin to ski down the mountaintop, relishing in the cold winter air, breaths rising as mist.

* * *

**things you said after it was over**

“Is it done?”

“Yes. It’s over, Buck, you’re safe. They’re gone.”

“How is… how is Loki?”

“Disorientated, confused. Very scared.” Steve pauses, hesitantly. “I was wondering whether you’d be able to talk to them?”

Bucky pauses. Glances over at Bruce, who’s sitting in the corner, curled into Tony’s arms. “I don’t know. Why would Loki want to talk to me?”

“Well,” Steve begins delicately, “you both went through similar experiences. Loki’s real shaken up after everything Thanos did to them. Still hurting a lot, but too scared to show it. I think you could help them. Only if you want to, though. We’re not forcing you into anything.”

Bucky takes a deep breath. “I’ll need to think about it.”

“Okay. Not a problem.”

“I’ll talk it over with Bruce. Xe’s good at helping me with this kind of stuff.”

“Okay. Take all the time you need. Remember, you matter too.”

It’s not much. But it is a start.

* * *

**things you said when you woke up from sedation**

“It’s… not heavy?”

Bucky’s sleepy words startle a laugh out of Steve. “You’re in surgery for six hours, you wake up, and the first thing you say is ‘it’s not heavy’?”

“Shut up, punk,” Bucky murmurs, and his eyes flutter open. One by one, five metal fingers flex, extend, clench into a fist, and a look of wonder crosses Bucky’s face. “I can feel with them?”

“How is it?” Bruce asks from a chair in the corner of the room, where xe’d been sitting, waiting for Bucky to wake up.

“Strange.”

“Painful? It shouldn’t be, but if you do have any growing pains, as it were, you can get some painkillers.”

“Not painful. Just… strange. It feels weird, not having to counterbalance for it.” Steve smiles down at Bucky. “Help me sit up, Stevie?”

Steve moves forward and carefully helps Bucky into a sitting position, then smiles. “You do realise you’re leaning to the right, don’t you?”

Bucky chuckles and visible resettles himself to the centre of his pillows. “I’m used to pulling to the right to balance the weight. Now it’s gone… I don’t know. It’s strange.”

“You’ll get used to that,” Bruce reassures. “Just give your body some time to adjust. The reduced weight also means that your shoulder, chest and back muscles on your left hand side should be under less strain, so they shouldn’t ache anymore.”

Bucky beam up at Steve, and suddenly, despite his bruises and his too-thin frame, he’s so full of hope it’s unbelievable. “I’m gonna get better, Stevie. I’m gonna be okay.”

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, voice thick with emotion, as he sits on the edge of the bed and takes Bucky’s new hand in his own. “It’s going to be okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't own 'em - if I did, it'd be a lot more diverse.  
> The timeline here is a bit confusing, so let me clarify: Steve and Bucky start dating sometime before the serum. They're a couple right through the events of CA:TFA, up until Bucky's fall. Steve wakes up in the modern day, but the events of CA:TWS (namely, Steve and Bucky's reunion scene) occur before the events of A:A, so Bucky is already living at Avengers tower and recovering from Hydra by the time the Chitauri invasion goes down. After that, Steve grows suspicious of SHIELD and with Tony's help manages to expose it as Hydra, at which point they take it down (before Project Insight launches). I'm not keeping to canon at all in terms of timeline so if you're a purist, this definitely isn't the fic for you: I've jimmied bits in and out in order to make the order of events as I want them, so any inconsistencies are a result of that.  
> Steve is transmale and uses he/him pronouns. His deadname, Mórríghan, is an Irish Gaelic name that means 'great queen'. Since 'Steve' means 'crown' or 'crowned one', I thought Mórríghan was appropriate (also given Steve's Irish heritage).  
> The decision to make Steve explicitly Catholic is based on his Irish Catholic background in the films, and the decision to make Bucky explicitly Jewish was inspired by reading [this](http://www.kissmywonderwoman.com/2016/03/what-if-bucky-barnes-from-captain.html) article, which is quite interesting and discusses in-depth what it would mean for his character. I am not Jewish or Catholic myself, nor do I have any close friends or family who are Jewish or Catholic, so if I have portrayed any part of either religion incorrectly, I apologise, and please correct me!  
> Just to clarify: Steve's first language is Irish Gaelic, and he also speaks English and some Yiddish. Bucky's first language is Yiddish, and he also speaks Hebrew, English and some Irish Gaelic. All translations for both the Yiddish and the Irish Gaelic were taken from Omniglot. If any are inaccurate, tell me and I'll fix them!  
> For anyone who's confused about my description of Clint's hair: it was originally inspired by [this](http://secretagentclintbarton.tumblr.com/post/150677862244/templeait-okay-but-what-if-clint-with-a-purple) post, but since Clint has long hair in this verse, it would like somewhat like a mix of that and [this](https://proxy.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=http%3A%2F%2Fstrayhair.com%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2014%2F10%2Fwavy-blond-undercut-hair.jpg&f=1).  
> The title for the article by Time magazine was suggested by my pal [Sydni](http://ggayzuko.tumblr.com) over on tumblr: a hundred thank-yous to them for helping me with that.


End file.
